Along Came a Spider
by WeirdEmmaline
Summary: An alternate ending. Major Character Death.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: chapter one of this story is also chapter nine of Pieces of a Dream. It was requested that I write a sequel, but I figured that if I posted just that one shot people might get confused. So I've combined them both so people don't get confused. **

**I'd like to dedicate this fic to Sara.**

"Make your choice, Christine." The deformed man's voice was cold and flat in stark contrast with the grand, booming thunder it usually was. His amber eyes, which almost seemed to glow in the dim light, never left the singer's face as she looked back and forth between the two men.

"Erik, please—" The hesitation in her voice only served to further anger the deformed man, who yanked on the rope that held the vicomte up. The vicomte wheezed and struggled against the rope as he was lifted temporarily from the ground. "Stop it!"

"You try my patience." Christine had never seen him this way. Even when she'd pulled away his mask that first time and revealed the horrible beast hidden by that smooth porcelain he'd still managed to control his anger. Now she was afraid he might even lash out at her.

Her hands, heavy and shaking with fear, rubbed her throat protectively. She could still feel his icy fingers against her flesh. _If Raoul hadn't thrown that rock… _

She didn't want to think of what could've happened. The gasping, choking sounds escaping her fiancé's lips brought her back to reality. _I can't stall any longer_, she thought in dismay as she looked around the room for something to conceal in her hand. She didn't want to approach her former mentor unarmed, not with that terrible crazed look in his eyes.

Near Raoul's feet, something shimmery caught her eye. It was a piece of the mirror that Erik had broken. _I'm only going to have one chance at this._

Although she wasn't quite sure how, she managed to will herself forward, slowly walking across the wet stone floor to where Erik stood. His scowl turned hostile as she approached and she hesitated, turning and looking away from him.

For just a moment, her eyes met with Raoul's. The pain she saw made her heart hurt more than she could bear.

Just a few steps from Erik, she threw herself to the ground as though she had tripped. She landed sprawled at Raoul's feet, her outstretched hand near the shard of broken glass that had caught her eye.

For a few delicious seconds, Raoul could breathe and his feet were flat on the floor as Erik jerked forward to help Christine. She pulled herself to her knees quickly, concealing the glass in her skirt as she brushed herself off.

As she pushed herself to her feet, she realized how hard her hands were shaking. _I only have one chance at this,_ she thought, swallowing hard.

"I can't imagine," she said, fighting to keep her voice even as she forced herself to look at Erik. "I can't imagine the life that you've lived. To be alone, to feel so unloved…" They were toe to toe now, Christine looking up into Erik's disbelieving face as she wrapped her arms around him.

She clenched her hand around the broken piece of mirror so tightly that it cut into her palm. Wincing, she reached up and brushed her fingers against the twisted scar tissue of his cheek. He flinched and looked away, a pained expression twisting his features.

With trembling fingers, she reached for him once more. This time he allowed her hand to rest against his gnarled, rubbery skin. Slowly, he turned to look down at her once more.

Raoul hit the floor hard, gasping and coughing as he caught his breath. Christine silently begged him to look away as she shifted onto her toes, craning upward as far as she could.

Erik's shock made him go rigid before melting into putty in her hands. She moved her hand to the base of his neck and pulled him down as far as she could, bridging the gap between their lips.

He stiffened, his arms flailing out at his sides as he tried to pull himself away from her. Instead of letting him go, she held him tighter. As he finally gave in and slowly draped his arms around her, she took the piece of the broken mirror and stabbed him in the back as hard as she could.

Erik's eyes widened and he let out a strange sputtering sound as Christine pulled away from him, shoving him backward.

"Christine," he whimpered, "_why?_" He staggered back a few more steps before tripping over his own feet and crumpling into a heap on the floor. "Why?!" His voice was the shrill, pained cry of an animal.

The soprano didn't answer him, but turned and worked to untie her fiancé.

"Raoul? Raoul, speak to me," she begged.

"Oh, Christine!" he breathed as he threw his arms around her, barely giving her time to finish freeing him. The weight of his body against hers was what finally triggered the tears that had been threatening her eyes through the entire ordeal.

"Come, let's get out of here before he rights himself," Raoul said as he glared over her shoulder at the noseless man. His voice was hoarse and still a bit breathless, but Christine was relieved to see him already moving and speaking.

She helped him to his feet, and both of them were grateful to have the other to lean against.

As Raoul pushed the boat away from the shore, Christine looked back one last time to see Erik reaching out for her.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: An attempt was made. **

As he watched her leave, Erik searched for any sign of remorse. He found none. _Will she find herself feeling guilty for my death?_ he wondered, and immediately decided that no, she wouldn't. She likely wasn't aware that her backstabbing would cause his death. A part of her, he was sure, still believed him to be a ghost. And that part of her would absolve her of any guilt.

Sure, she might have nightmares about the events of that night. Forever she would carry the memories with her. But Erik realized as he fought unconsciousness that there would no longer be a place for him there, inside her mind.

The physical wound she had inflicted was not enough to be fatal, not outright. He couldn't reach it to remove the broken glass and every movement caused what clotting had occurred to reopen and bleed anew.

How long had he been sitting there now, drifting in and out of consciousness? An hour? A day? Longer? He couldn't be sure. Once she had gone, he'd tried to get up multiple times to no avail. The pain was too much; it prevented him from putting weight on his left leg at all.

_How fitting_, he thought as darkness closed in around him, _that my death comes at her hand. _

He slumped forward, too weak to properly lie down, and the darkness consumed him.

It was the hardest thing she'd ever done, and with every step toward freedom she felt greater remorse. She was shaking like a leaf and barely able to keep herself from openly weeping as she helped Raoul along.

She knew it couldn't be much further now. They'd followed the path Raoul had taken, stopping now only because Christine couldn't push herself forward anymore. She took one last staggering step before collapsing. Raoul lost his balance and fell beside her.

"What's wrong?" he asked. When he received no answer, he reached out to touch her face. "Christine?"

"I shouldn't have done that," she whispered, her words hardly intelligible through the sobs that choked her. "Oh, Raoul, I _stabbed_ him!"

"He had it coming," Raoul replied. She knew that he intended the words to be comforting but she found little comfort in them. "He nearly killed me!" he added, almost as an afterthought.

"I have to go back," Christine blubbered. Tears were streaming down her cheeks now and nothing she did could slow or stop them. She pulled herself to her feet and turned to go back, but Raoul grabbed her arm. "Let me go!"

"Christine, you can't. There's nothing waiting for you back there. He's as good as dead. You did us all a favor."

"But—"

"I won't let you turn back now," Raoul said, gripping her arm firmly as she struggled. She fought valiantly but lost her balance and toppled to the ground once more. She didn't try to get up again.

Somehow he managed to crawl into Christine's room. It hadn't been an easy task; red-hot pain radiated from the wound. He could already feel his flesh puckering with infection around the shard of mirror.

It was there that the mob found him. Splayed like a half-rotten corpse upon the ground, he was kicked and stepped on as they ransacked his home. In the cacophony of stomping and smashing, no one heard the corpse crying out in pain.

The opera house was dark and forbidding as Christine approached it three nights later, a thick black cloak obscuring all but the milky white skin of her hands. She hurried across the street to the charred shell of a building, devoid of its usual splendor in the wake of the angry mob that had taken it over.

That fateful night seemed so long ago. How she'd managed to bury such painful memories so soon boggled her mind and caused her guilt further even than that she already felt.

The foyer, once breathtaking in its decor, was now charred and nearly impassable. Still, Christine knew that she had precious little time before Raoul would discover that she had gone. She stumbled and tripped over various half-destroyed items, including part of the railing from the staircase.

When she'd left her sleeping fiancé, her plan had been to find her way back by way of the passage behind her dressing room mirror. Now, however, she discovered what must have been the route Erik had taken the night of the masquerade.

The darkness was peaceful. Not even a dream dared disturb him as he fell further and further away from life. He was at peace, even the pain of the wound that sapped the life from him had ceased to bother him. It was a numbness greater than even opium had granted him in his youth.

And then he heard the voice of an angel calling his name. No, not his name. The name he had made for himself. The name he chose because his mother couldn't bear to name a monster.

"Erik? _Erik?_" There was a strange, panicked quality to her voice that pulled him from the depths of that murky darkness that threatened to pull him under. As he opened his eyes, he found that they wouldn't focus. _Why can't I see?_ The thought caused him distress, but only for a moment.

"Oh, Erik!" She sounded so horribly sad. "I'm so sorry."

_Can it be? Did she really come back?_ How he wished he could see more than a blur of gold, peach, and white above him.

"Christine?" It felt strange, moving his mouth to speak. Almost as though his lips were no longer attached to him.

Her hand, so soft and so warm, cupped his cheek. He knew then that it had to be Christine. And all at once, it was over. One final, ragged breath escaped his lungs as the light went out of those amber eyes.


End file.
